true life planet

This entry, along with all of the “Notes From Paris” entries that follow it, were written while I spent two weeks in Paris, biding my time while waiting for the Indian Embassy to give me a visa.

I write this from my apartment in Paris. Well, it’s not actually my apartment, but it’s temporarily mine for the next few weeks.  It actually belongs to my friend’s brother, and luckily for me he is out of town at the moment.

Paris is big. It’s huge, with a big city feel.

It’s also the most walkable city I have ever been in, except for perhaps Chigago. I have been walking everywhere.

One of the reasons I have been walking around is that I have been avoiding the metro. The first few days here my friend assigned me a “helper” of sorts, to take me around and so on. We got lost on the metro several times, and this kind of turned me off of riding it so far.

Walking around the city has it’s own distinct advantages.

For one thing, you get lost alot. This has been great for me because I have figured out where my apartment is in relation to everything else in my neighborhood. Every time I get lost I discover some new treasure that is definitely not mentioned in my guidebook-like the neighborhood falafel place, the different bakeries, little churches, and art galleries.

You also end the day positively exhausted. All that walking around tires one out.

Unfortunately, being tired of walking around combined with my natural ability to get easily lost results in me getting lost constantly here.

I have taken to asking people for directions.

Actually I should say, I have taken to asking men for directions. Frenchwomen are..unfortunately..seemingly short tempered and have no time for lost tourists who do not speak a word of French.

Frenchmen, on the other hand, do not mind helping me at all. Even if they do not understand me and I do not understand them. Even if they have somewhere else to go, or if they are buying fish at the fish shop-they will stop whatever they are doing and give me their full attention.

They will never  just point and wave me on my way-oh no. They will insist on walking with me, at least part of the way, at least to the next corner. They will stop and squeeze my arm and nod alot at whatever I say. They will point out attractions along the way, and talk to me in French, although I tell them I do not understand them whatsoever.

Any chance for a meal or a cup of coffee? They would love to show me love in the City of Lights.

I have a boyfriend, I say.

This doesn’t matter whatsoever. Good, they say. So what about the coffee?

I finally pretend I understand where the hell I am and motion goodbye. Frenchmen use this opportunity to kiss me three times on the cheek, even though we will never meet again.

One Frenchman told me that many American women come to Paris for..romance. Especially “women of a certain age”. So, now that I’m forty, I guess I’m an easy target!

It’s not just when I’m on the street, wandering around lost with a pathetic expression, that men in Paris take interest.

Yesterday I was at the Indian Embassy. I had gone there with the friend of a friend, who spoke French and was exceedingly helpful. She was going to translate for me in case they didn’t speak any English there.

We were stopped by the guard at the front door, and before we could continue, he began talking to my friend rather excitedly and staring at me.

It seemed to me that he had taken an interest in my friend; perhaps he was looking at me, trying to give me a not so subtle hint to disappear? I had no way of knowing as the entire conversation was in French and my friend wasn’t translating.

My friend began to blush, causing me to say: ” Oh, he likes you. That’s sweet.”

No, my friend informed me. He likes you. He wants to know all about you. He wants to see you again. He is asking when he can he see you again. He wants to see you tomorrow.

” But I don’t speak French. He doesn’t speak English!”

“Exactly!”( Ah..the city of Paris..I am beginning to understand it’s reputation as a place for a quick romance.)

I tell her to tell him I have a boyfriend, am engaged, am..actually on my way to meet my fiance in India.

He finds this incredibly sad. But, he says, this is not a reason why we should not meet. We should still meet. Tomorrow.

On the way home, I get lost again, as I’m on my own. Three men ask me to coffee and one man asks me to have dinner while I am buying a can opener in the hardware store down the street from my apartment.

It’s going to be an amusing two weeks, struggling to stay single in this city.

gigi

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